


the needle does all the work

by salvage



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: First Time, M/M, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2018-02-17 10:44:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2306855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salvage/pseuds/salvage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Well, tattooing my forearm was easy. But the upper arm will be much more difficult, see?” Uta stretched one arm across his body, imitating the position of the tattoo machine with his other hand, to illustrate. “So would you… would you help me?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	the needle does all the work

**Author's Note:**

> In my defense, I did begin this well before the Chapter 143 reveal. To my detriment, I still stand by Uta/Renji even now. Additionally, I am aware that human eyes take on a milky color after death, obscuring the color of the iris; however, I wanted to take a little artistic liberty. Please don't hold it against me. Obviously, graphic descriptions of tattooing are contained within (machine tattooing, not stick-and-poke). 
> 
> Many, many thanks to [saezutte](http://archiveofourown.org/users/saezutte/pseuds/saezutte) for encouraging me to write this, for being my beta reader, and for introducing me to Tokyo Ghoul in the first place.

“I’ve always liked the look of tattoos, you know,” Uta said, kicking his feet slightly in the empty air in front of them. Renji looked over at him, brows furrowing together slightly. “Of course, human tattoo needles would be useless,” Uta continued. “I’d have to use a kagune. It’s how I did the piercings, you know.” He pointed to his right ear, the corner of his lips turning up in a little smile, shifting the double piercing.

“Did you… use your own?”

Uta laughed. “No,” he said, looking away from Renji back out over the city. Renji watched him for a long moment, waiting for him to continue, before he, too, looked away; down at the street far below their perch on the half-constructed building, teeming with humans. The low roar of street noise filled the silence between them: overlapping conversations too far away to make out, sounds of car engines and brakes, music drifting from the open door of a shop.

“Would your skin hold the ink?” A gust of wind rustled their clothing and blew Renji’s hair across his face; when he pushed it back, Uta was looking at him again.

“I’d have to see, wouldn’t I?”

“Hm.” Renji was struck by a thought. “Wouldn’t that make you more recognizable to the Doves?”

Uta shrugged. “If they find me, they find me. I already have these eyes. Besides,” he continued, looking out over the city, “I won’t be manager of the Fourth Ward forever.”

“Oh.” Renji hesitated. He’d never really considered tattoos one way or another, but when he imagined black lines spidering up Uta’s slim, pale arms he thought he could see the appeal. “I could help. If… you’d like.”

A smile spread over Uta’s face, still in profile to Renji, and he closed his dark eyes for a moment. A breeze ruffled his hair. “Renji.” He opened his eyes just enough to look over and see Renji also watching him from the corner of his eye. “Thank you.”

Renji shrugged slightly, looking back over the street. It was late enough in the day that commuters were starting to rush home from their jobs, threading the brightly clad crowds with dark veins of somber business suits. “What would you need?”

“It should only take a moment.” Uta tilted his head to the side like a bird. “Would you like to do it now?”

Renji shrugged, a movement that Uta had already learned to interpret as assent. Uta sprang up from his perch on the beam, not bothering to conceal his excitement. He landed silently on the concrete a few feet away, looking up at Renji expectantly with his dark eyes. Renji unfolded himself and followed.

Their footsteps echoed faintly between the blank concrete walls of the building. Renji trailed a few feet behind Uta, who checked out every corner of the floor they were on before choosing a room, maybe twenty by thirty feet, barely illuminated by the faint light that slipped through the mazelike chain of rooms.

“No one should find us here. Go ahead.”

Shifting from foot to foot slightly, Renji shed his jacket and shirt so they would not be damaged, tossing them to the floor. Under Uta’s unwavering gaze, he unfurled his kagune as slowly and gently as he could. They shimmered, flickering silver and purple light across the dull concrete walls of the room; Uta smiled.

“So pretty, Raven.”

“Don’t call me that,” Renji muttered. His ukaku flared up a little, stretching across the entire span of the room and up to brush the ceiling.

“Hah, maybe it’ll help to rile you up a little.” Uta approached Renji until they were nearly nose to nose. “Try just letting a few spikes go.”

Renji concentrated and twitched one shoulder, making the entire wing shiver. Several dagger-like spikes shot out and embedded themselves in the concrete.

Uta glanced over at the wall, then shook his head. “More gently.”

Renji closed his eyes and this time shivered both wings. He balled up his fists in concentration. A silver shimmer rippled through his kagune and several more spikes shot out, this time embedding in both walls. He opened his eyes and sighed. “It’s no use.”

Uta hummed as he ambled nonchalantly to one of the walls. “The second set are slimmer. That’s better, that’s what we want.”

Renji grunted. “Can you get them out of the wall?”

Uta shook his head and stood there for a strange moment, staring at Renji with an unreadable expression. Then he went back to the center of the room, this time standing even closer to Renji. He raised himself up on his toes and leaned forward until his lip rings almost brushed against Renji’s ear. Renji stopped breathing. Uta skated one hand up Renji’s side, just barely touching, ghosting around Renji’s ribcage so his fingertips reached where the kagune pushed out through the skin.

Uta’s fingertips traced the flickering lower edge of Renji’s kagune. Renji’s shoulders trembled almost imperceptibly with the effort of staying still. Uta breathed, “Relax,” and as he did he slipped his hand up into the shifting mass of Renji’s kagune. A few sharp edges pricked at his fingertips like papercuts, but he was able to open his hand, spreading his fingers wide as though through feathers. Renji made a choked noise. Uta shushed him softly and very slowly closed his hand, gathering a prickly mass of slim needles in his fist. He placed his free hand on Renji’s cheek and felt a sharp intake of breath against the heel of his palm, then a long, shaky exhale.

When Uta drew his hand away from Renji’s kagune, he held a fistful of long, slim, needle-like daggers. He backed away from Renji and when Renji finally opened his eyes, he was beaming.

“Easy!”

Renji cleared his throat, twitching his shoulders to withdraw his kagune. The room darkened. Uta opened his bag and withdrew a cloth, in which he wrapped the needles, then he placed the whole package into a wooden box. Renji pulled his shirt on shakily, resolutely not watching Uta’s careful yet efficient movements.

“Well,” Uta said, when they faced each other again. “I will let you know how the process goes! Thanks again!”

Renji nodded and watched him abruptly leave the room, footsteps silent, before gathering his jacket and following.

* * *

It was relatively easy for Uta to modify his newly bought tattoo machine to fit Renji’s ukaku needles. He placed one ukaku needle carefully into the modified machine, absently pinching the tip of his tongue between his teeth. He tightened the screws to hold it in place, checking that everything was in working order. When he switched the power on, it buzzed loudly, the sharp point that protruded out of the shiny silver tube blurring with motion. He shut it off again, smiling to himself.

He rubbed his right wrist with alcohol and placed the temporary stencil very carefully, patting it down from the back of his wrist to the inside so it transferred evenly onto his skin and then peeling the paper back. The design was perfectly centered. He steeled his nerves and switched the machine back on. He dipped the needles in the pot of ink and pressed them to his skin.

It had been a long time since Uta had felt pain. He held back the involuntary noise that wanted to creep up out of his throat, letting it out as a slow breath instead; he felt his kagune coalescing just under the surface of his skin. He was struck for a moment by the idea to draw back the machine and throw the whole idea out as something Ghouls Just Shouldn’t Do. But he pressed on. The sharp initial shock of pain quickly ebbed to a low, constant murmur at the back of his consciousness, not unlike how the buzzing of the tattoo machine cut the silence of the room as he worked. He was very careful not to press too hard against the thin, delicate skin at the pale inside of his wrist. He developed a pattern, moving the needle between the pot of ink and his hand, pausing every few minutes to shut the machine off and wipe away excess ink with a damp paper towel, smearing gray streaks across newly-marked skin.

It seemed to take hours, and when he was finished Uta had to use the cuff of his shirt to wipe away the sheen of sweat that had gathered on his forehead and upper lip. But when he blinked his weary eyes at his hand, a thrill ran through him at the sight of the dark tattoo that curled around his wrist. He turned his arm over and back again, marveling at what he’d done. He was going to do _so many more_.

* * *

“I think I may need you to help me.” Uta fell easily into step with Renji, as though they’d been walking together all day. He somehow made it seem normal that he was wearing sunglasses even as twilight fell.

“Hm?”

Uta crossed his arms over his chest and the movement drew Renji’s eyes; he resisted the urge to peer at Uta’s skin where his sleeves rode up to reveal black marks. He hadn’t doubted Uta, necessarily, but he still felt surprised that Uta’s plan had worked. “Well, tattooing my forearm was easy. But the upper arm will be much more difficult, see?” Uta stretched one arm across his body, imitating the position of the tattoo machine with his other hand, to illustrate. “So would you… would you help me?”

Renji stared at him. “I’m not sure…”

“You’d just be following a stencil. Making sure to color inside the lines.” Uta smiled encouragingly. “You can practice, if you’d like.”

“Practice?”

“Come to my apartment.”

“Now?”

Uta shrugged. “If you have time tonight. If not, tomorrow.”

“I—” Renji paused and they walked in silence for a few steps, Uta patiently waiting. “Let’s go now.”

Uta’s face lit up.

As Renji followed Uta to his apartment, he began to feel the full weight of the trust Uta clearly placed in him: bringing him to his home, allowing him to permanently mark his body—even simply believing, for whatever reason, that Renji was the best candidate for the job in spite of the fact that Uta could have asked any other ghoul in the ward to do this. He hesitantly prodded at the feeling, expecting it to shatter into a panicked urge to flee, but it simply settled around him.

After removing his shoes, Uta immediately disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Renji alone in his narrow, dark hallway. “Coffee?” Uta’s voice called out, as Renji shuffled hestitantly forward and found the small living room. The walls were lined with shelves, all packed with materials: fabric of all different kinds, folded into stacks or rolled into long tubes or stuffed into free corners, hanging in front of other shelves, fraying at the ends; bottles and jars of paint and other unidentifiable liquids, clear and opaque; boxes labeled “zippers” or “buttons” or “thread.” There were several mannequin heads as well, faces painted with strange manic grins. Sheets of thin plastic and wood were propped against the shelves as well, obscuring some of the lower ones.

“Oh—no, thank you,” Renji responded belatedly.

Uta reappeared in the living room, holding a plastic-wrapped package. “Sit,” he directed Renji, placing the package on the table and arranging the items on the table: a small ceramic dish, a bottle of black ink, a bottle of water, paper towels, and a stack of thin sheets of paper with intricate purple designs on them. He produced a small tattoo machine and set it aside.

Uta sat down across from Renji and unwrapped the plastic package, revealing a human arm, detached at the elbow. He dampened it with water, then somewhat haphazardly picked up one of the sheets of paper and placed it, inked side down, against the skin. After he peeled it away, the stencil remained.

“You’re basically just following the outlines,” Uta said, pouring a little black ink into the ceramic dish. “Watch.” He picked up the machine and turned it on, startling Renji with its sudden, persistent buzz. He dipped the needle tip into the ink, then traced one of the lines of the stenciled design as he had on his own arm. “When there’s too much ink, wipe it away, but be sure to wipe it across what you’ve already inked, otherwise it could obliterate the design.”

Renji nodded numbly, still a little overwhelmed by the suddenness of it all. He took the machine, warm from Uta’s hand, and the arm, cold from the refrigerator. He took a deep breath, and began.

Renji, as it turned out, was a terrible tattoo artist. His hands stuttered outside the lines of the stencil Uta had placed on the corpse’s arm, giving jagged and uneven edges to the simple designs. After the third failed attempt, he shut the machine off and pushed it across the table toward Uta, who was absorbed in sketching in a battered-looking hardbound book.

“I’m sorry.”

Uta looked up, blinking as though remembering where he was. “You’re giving up so easily?”

Renji’s eyes flashed but he just shook his head. “I’m no good at… things like this.”

“Hm.” Uta frowned skeptically. “Let me show you.” He came around the table so he was kneeling next to Renji, their thighs brushing, and reached into Renji’s personal space to retrieve the tattoo machine. His bare arm, tattooed up to the elbow, radiated warmth where it brushed against the back Renji’s hand. He fiddled with the position of the human arm before switching the machine on.

“Hold the machine gently,” he said, raising his voice slightly over the buzz. “It’s as though you’re drawing with a pencil. The needle does all the work. You just have to move it where you want it.” He finished outlining an intricate triangle and began filling small sections of it with black. The ink welled up around the needle, dark and glistening; he drew the tattoo machine back slightly and wiped the ink away, streaking it across the completed section of the design. 

Renji watched him silently. “You really trust me to do this.”

Uta continued filling in little sections, wiping the ink away. “Shouldn’t I?” He glanced up at Renji, shutting off the machine, holding it out. “Try it again.”

Renji took it delicately, as though it were a bird he was afraid to crush. Uta immediately placed his hand over Renji’s, positioning it over the arm.

“Trace it confidently,” Uta said, tugging at Renji’s hand until it pantomimed the arc of one of the stenciled designs. “I think your hands are shaking because you are nervous. And remember, gently.” He switched the machine on.

Renji traced a clean, straight line, then held the tattoo machine away in surprise. “Oh.”

“See?” Renji concentrated on tattooing, but he heard the smile in Uta’s voice. He continued working while Uta stood and clattered around in the kitchen for a few minutes, then returned with a small bowl. “We’ll have to wait for them to warm up; I keep them in the refrigerator to keep them from spoiling, but they’re best at room temperature.”

Renji glanced over at the contents of the bowl. “Eyes?”

“My favorite! I admit, they’re better fresh. I’m always hungry, so I like to have snacks around. My friend Itori saves them for me.”

Renji made a noncommittal noise as he continued his work. Uta’s familiar chatter was relaxing to him and, loath as he was to admit it, now that he was a little less nervous the tattooing was easier. Uta had settled beside him, going back to his sketching. The pencil’s scratching was obscured by the buzz of the tattoo machine but out of the corner of his vision Renji could see Uta’s hand moving, beginning with wide, sketchy strokes that he used his whole arm to draw, then moving on to fine-looking detail work. Renji concentrated on tracing the simple geometrical designs of the tattoo, filling in the dark spots completely, making sure the lines were absolutely even.

“There,” he said, finally, shutting off the machine, a little pleased with the work he had done.

Uta closed his book with a snap. “Let’s see.” He reached over Renji’s arm to grab the practice arm. He held it very close to his face to examine it carefully. “It’s very good!”

Renji couldn’t help the little rush of pride he felt. “I’ll do another practice one, but—”

“And then the real thing,” Uta spoke over him.

Renji closed his mouth. “Okay,” he found himself saying.

Uta rubbed the back of the hand of the practice arm with water, then delicately placed a stencil on it. He patted it down gently, then peeled the paper off. “Go ahead.”

This one was more intricate, so it took Renji longer to complete. Uta was perfectly happy sketching, though, hovering his hand just off the paper so as not to smudge the graphite, drawing quick, confident lines. Every so often he would pick up an eye and examine it before popping it into his mouth.

“Why do you look at them?” Renji finally asked, when he was nearly finished with the tattoo and the bowl was nearly empty.

“I like to see what color they are.” Uta looked up at him and smiled. “As an artist, the colors interest me. They’re all slightly different, you know.”

Renji went back to his work without a word. Soon, he switched the machine off for the final time, rinsing the tattoo with water as Uta had showed him.

“Perfect,” Uta said, when he examined it. “Now the real thing.” He stood and shuffled through the pile of stencils until he found the proper one, then gestured Renji over to the bathroom. Confused, Renji followed him. “You have to help me position it,” Uta said, rubbing his upper arm with alcohol, turned sideways to the mirror. He straightened his posture, then gestured to Renji. “The bottom matches with the design that’s already there, see.”

Renji carefully placed the paper on Uta’s arm, smoothing it up and then around Uta’s slim arm. The edges matched up perfectly. He peeled the paper away and the lines remained, purplish-blue, some crosshatched to indicate which parts of the design should be filled in. “Good?”

“Yes, and on the first try, too,” Uta said, twisting his arm around to see every part. “Let’s go.”

They settled at the table again, Uta’s arm stretched out between them. Renji glanced up at Uta, one final confirmation, and Uta nodded.

Uta was silent when Renji first touched the needle to the skin above his elbow, breathing in deep, measured breaths and very deliberately keeping his hand flat and steady on the table. He fought to stay calm amidst the constant low-level pain combined with the presence of another ghoul; a ghoul who had once been an enemy, no less. His other hand tightened where he had laid it on his thigh, fingertips digging into his own flesh. He felt his kagune itch beneath his skin.

To distract himself, Uta watched Renji while he worked, though not the hand that Renji braced against his arm nor the tip of the needle that Renji held against his skin. Instead, Uta watched Renji’s face, or as much of it as he could see: his knitted brows and the flat line of his mouth, both set in his intense focus; the slope of his nose; the slight hollows of his cheeks.

“We can take a break,” Uta said, after a long silence broken only by the buzz of the machine. About a third of the design was completed, the outside of Uta’s arm now writhing with dark lines.

Renji grunted noncommittally, holding the machine away from Uta’s arm as he finally, hesitantly, met Uta’s gaze, eyes kakugan. “Do you need it?”

Uta shook his head minutely. Renji looked back to Uta’s arm, wiping away spattered ink with a damp towel, his touch almost excessively gentle. The frantic messages Uta’s brain had been sending him about the pain had died down to a dull murmur at the back of his consciousness. Renji gently turned Uta’s arm over to work on the inside, leaning over until the tips of Uta’s gently curled fingers brushed his sternum through the loosely hanging fabric of his shirt.

“You’re not… hungry… are you,” Uta said.

“No.” Renji did not look up from Uta’s arm, but his grip tightened. Uta could not help his fingers twitching against Renji’s chest.

The needle dug in a little too hard to the delicate skin of Uta’s inner arm, and the sharp scent of blood sliced through the air. Uta swallowed a pained noise and watched a drop of blood well up amidst the ink. Renji shut off the tattoo machine. Before Uta could react, Renji leaned down and lapped up the blood, his tongue soft and hot on Uta’s pain-sensitized skin. Uta didn’t hold back his next involuntary noise: “Oh…” It seemed to echo in the suddenly silent room.

Renji blinked up at him, eyes black, a smear of matching ink across his lips. “I…”

Uta surged forward to kiss him, tasting ink and his own blood on Renji’s mouth. Renji responded eagerly. There was a metallic thud as Renji dropped the tattoo machine on the table and pulled Uta forward with one hand buried in the hair at the back of his neck, the other still firmly gripping his arm. Uta went eagerly, feeling for the hot skin under Renji’s shirt, still chasing the taste of his own blood in Renji’s mouth. Their knees slotted together on the floor.

The skin of Uta’s newly tattooed arm twinged when he reached up to wrap an arm around Renji but he ignored it in favor of the hot press of Renji’s body against his own. Renji ducked his face against Uta’s neck to bite gently at the skin there. Uta made a soft noise, hips rolling up in vain.

Renji growled and roughly shoved Uta to the floor, pressing their bodies together from hips to chest. Uta pushed one thigh in between Renji’s. Renji’s mouth opened as Uta pressed his hips up to grind against Renji’s erection, silent except for the harsh breath he drew in. Uta nipped at his lips between kisses until Renji’s mouth was pink and swollen.

Uta slipped a hand between them and tugged at Renji’s belt, hindered somewhat by the awkward angle of his hand. He unfastened it and hastily opened Renji’s pants to get his hand around his cock. Renji pressed his face into the joint of Uta’s neck and shoulder and his hips twitched forward. Uta pulled at Renji’s cock slowly, savoring the roll of Renji’s hips in counterpoint to his movement, the sharp breaths he was taking in. When he dragged his palm across the tip of Renji’s cock Renji’s movements stuttered in their rhythm for a split second.

“Let’s see if we can’t get a sound out of you yet.” Uta brought his hand up to his mouth, putting enough space between them that Renji could look him in the eyes as he licked sloppily up his palm and fingers, tasting Renji on his skin. Renji tightened his grip on the back of Uta’s neck.

At the first wet curl of Uta’s hand Renji’s voice caught in his throat. “Getting there,” Uta murmured, nipping at his earlobe. “Come on.” Renji thrust into Uta’s hand, clearly desperate, still silent.

Uta flipped them over gracefully, taking Renji by surprise and quickly sliding down his body before Renji could react. He glanced up at Renji, a few wisps of hair falling free in front of his eyes, and as Renji propped himself up on his elbows Uta took him in his mouth.

“Aah!” There it was. Uta slipped one hand under Renji’s shirt to clutch at his side, fingers pressing into the tense planes of muscle. The hand he curled at the base of Renji’s cock was slick with saliva, moving easily in rhythm with his mouth. He traced his tongue across the head and another desperate noise punched out of Renji. Uta hummed a little.

“Oh—Uta—” Uta pressed his slick hand flat against Renji’s stomach and swallowed him as deeply as he could.

Renji slapped one open palm against the floor, trying to thrust up into Uta’s mouth. “Please—” Uta worked his throat and Renji came, silent but with his mouth open wide, back arched, muscles tense.

“S… sorry…” Renji murmured as he opened his eyes. Uta waited until he made eye contact to swallow. “Oh god.” Renji grasped clumsily at Uta, dragging him up to kiss him without finesse, still breathing heavily.

“Don’t be sorry,” Uta said against Renji’s lips, almost laughing. “I’m not.”

Renji rolled them over again, kneeling over Uta so he could hastily push his pants down his hips and take his cock in one hand. Uta moaned, not shameless so much as unselfconscious. After a moment’s hesitation, Renji knelt back, then shuffled down so he was kneeling between Uta’s legs. He hesitantly put his mouth on the head of Uta’s cock.

“Raven,” Uta murmured fondly. Renji glared, the effect mitigated somewhat by Uta’s cock in his mouth. He bobbed his head slightly, mouth already slick with saliva, working a hand at the base. “Good, that’s good,” Uta said, lightly drifting his fingertips over the side of Renji’s face. “Hollow your cheeks,” he said, and Renji did. Uta’s eyes fluttered closed and he made a soft noise in his throat. He rested his hand in Renji’s hair, careful not to tug on it. Renji pulled off just enough for the tip to rest between his lips, hand curled loosely around the base, before swirling his tongue and taking it deeper into his mouth. Uta let out a loud moan, exerting all his energy not to thrust up into Renji’s mouth.

Renji pulled off with an obscene slurp, immediately coloring with embarrassment but continuing to work Uta’s cock with his hand.

“Raven, please,” Uta slurred, drawing Renji back up to kiss him, still fucking up into Renji’s hand.

“Come on,” Renji said softly. Uta twisted one hand in the hem of Renji’s shirt and came, pulsing into Renji’s hand, making small, desperate noises into Renji’s skin.

“Hmm,” Uta hummed into Renji’s neck, loosening his grip but not letting Renji go just yet. “The paper towels on the table.”

Renji growled and leaned away to grab a handful of paper towels, giving his hand and Uta’s stomach a cursory swipe. Uta immediately tugged him back down, half on top of Uta, Renji’s face pressed into Uta’s sweaty neck.

“It’s very hot,” Renji mumbled. Uta hooked one ankle around Renji’s calf. “You sweated the stencil off.” Renji peered at Uta’s arm. The unmarked skin was smudged with purple.

“You’ll just have to come back to complete it,” Uta said. “Didn’t think this was just a one-time deal, did you?”

Renji hummed, sweat drying at the small of his back, hands still smudged with ink. He liked the sound of that.


End file.
